"I don't know about that," her companion said. "As I told you, Miss Burgoyne is a business-like person. Linn, with his handsome figure and his fine voice, with his popularity and social position, is a very desirable match for her; but Linn become a nobody—his voice gone—his social success along with it—would be something entirely different. At the same time, Dr. Whitsen agrees with her in thinking there won't be any permanent injury; it is the fever that is the serious thing."
They went back to the house; the reports were no better. And all that night Lionel's fevered imaginings did not cease. He was haunted now by visions of cruelties and sufferings being inflicted on some one he knew in a far-distant land; he pleaded with the torturers; he called for help; sometimes he said she was dead and released, and there was no more need for him to go away in a ship to seek for her. The wearied brain could get no rest at all. Daylight came, and still he lay there, moaning and murmuring to himself. But help was at hand.
Between ten and eleven, Dr. Ballardyce, who had paid his usual morning visit, was going away, and Maurice, as his custom
was, went down-stairs with him to hear the last word. He said good-bye to the doctor and opened the door for him; and just as he did so he found before him a young woman who was about to ring the bell. She glanced up with frightened eyes; he was no less startled; and then, with a hurried "I beg your pardon," she turned to go away. But Maurice was by her side in a moment—bareheaded as he was.
"Miss Ross!" he exclaimed—for surely, surely, he could not have mistaken the pale olive face and the beautiful, soft, dark, lustrous eyes; nay, he made bold to put his hand on her arm, so determined was he to detain her.
"I—I only wished to hear how he was—but—but not that he should know," Nina said (she was all trembling, and her lips were pale).
"Oh, yes," Mangan said. "But you must not go away—I have something to tell you—come in-doors! You know he is seriously ill—you cannot refuse!"
There was but an intervening step or two; she timidly followed and entered the little hall; and he closed the door after them.
"Is he so very ill?" she said, in a low voice. "I saw it in the newspapers—I could not wait—but he is not to know that I came—"
"But—but I have something to say to you," he answered her, somewhat breathlessly, for he was uncertain what to do; he only knew that she must not go. "Yes, he is very ill—and distressed—his brain is excited—and we want to calm him. Surely you will come and speak to him—"